


Relapse

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Break up sex, F/M, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can lie to herself but nights like these she's not sure who she's fooling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relapse

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked for Angst based on Carrie Underwood's Relapse

Fingers trailed along her inner thigh, teasing the sensitive flesh in feather light caresses. He traced around her garter belt, itching higher until he just barely brushed the seam of her panties before withdrawing completely. Biting back the moan, Belle had to resist the urge to roll upwards, to seize him in her arms and drag him back onto the bed with her.

Tonight, he was in a teasing mood, eyes dark and distant as he gazed down at where she was spread on their old bed, flushed and wanting. She knew if she protested, if she tried to change the rules, he would pull away and she would be left there in their old house, alone. Wanting. She would be damned if she found release on her own hand, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had driven her to that and he would know. He always did. 

It hadn’t always been like this. 

When he had been her’s, there had been early mornings when he had slid into her half awake, thrusting slowly as his arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe and warm. They had found release in each other before the sun had even risen. They had stayed there together, his hand over her belly as they both breathed in each other, nestled together like two halves of a whole. They had wanted for nothing when it was just the two of them, and she sometimes desperately wished for the days of old. 

Those mornings were gone. Or more accurately, they had never been what she had thought. Not really because he had never been the man she had thought him to be, she had never seen the monster. She hadn’t seen the blend of dark and light, missed the gray because in her eyes there was only black and white. It had cost them everything. It had cost them those mornings half asleep, seeking comfort in each other. It had cost them the nights where they spent the darkness exploring each other, seeking new ways to make the other moan in pleasure, to cry out their name into the night as if a prayer. 

When she had seen it, when she finally saw what she had missed, Belle had panicked. She had been the one to end it. She had cast him out into the world and she had tried to move on with her life. Wine helped distract her, kind eyes and easy smiles warmed her but no kiss had made her quiver the way his had. She had tried to drown herself in work, play and misery and it hadn’t worked.

When news came that he had returned to town, she had cried until she was hiccuping on the floor of their old bathroom. The mirror had been unkind, showing her tired eyes red rimmed and cheeks glistening with tears. She had been terrified, not of him, never of him. But of what she would do now, what she would allow. Because she had missed him every moment he had been gone, and so what if he was back? Nothing had changed. He was still the man she had cast out of Storybrooke, seeking control of his darkness instead of trying to absolve himself of it. 

And she cried because he had not come to her. 

Resolving to stay away from him had been easy. She had to protect herself after all. She assured them all she was fine, that she didn’t care but it was all lies. She looked for him everywhere she went, listening to the gossip on the streets, trying to follow the usual suspects into their crusades just for a glimpse of him. 

So, when he had shown up at the pawn shop, late after Will had left, she had opened her mouth to deliver a diatribe and instead wound up sitting on a counter, legs spread wide as he pushed into her. It had taken all of five minutes before he had pulled out, spilling himself onto to her skirt as he came silently, fist clutching his cock as she tried to catch her breath. She had disappeared into the bathroom to clean herself off, and when she came back out, he was gone. 

The next time, she sought him out. And the next. And the next. They didn’t talk about it, that was the unspoken agreement. She had all the power to initiate, but somehow he had all the power during their consummation. With everything going on around them, all the uncertainty was left outside when they came together in a clash of want and need. Some nights were like the first, where they fucked, clothes still on, each seeking their own pleasure, using the other mercilessly. Those nights were her favorite, when she could pretend this was nothing more than scratching an itch. 

Nights like tonight though, when he set this maddening, slow pace, Belle was less sure. Even now, as if he could sense she was thinking, he hooked a finger into her panty, dragging a knuckle against her until she buckled, whimpering as she grabbed the comforter in her fists. She didn’t look up at him, kept her eyes on his hand, watching as he maneuvered his hand to cup her, a finger sliding into her, eliciting a needy moan.

Encouraged by this, he added another and Belle tossed her head backwards onto the bed, eyes falling shut as she thrust her hips to meet his hand. His other hand clamped down on her waist, holding her in place as he repeated his ministration, his eyes focused on her underwear watching his hand disappear beneath the fabric. 

“Rumple,” Belle breathed, swallowing heavily against the need thrumming in her blood. “I need…”

“Shh,” he murmured, not looking up as he slid his hand free. Belle tried to sit up, but his hand tightened on her hip and she stopped, laying back down to stare at the ceiling. Her body was tense, her underwear nearly soaked through and pulsing as fast as her heart. She heard him unzip his trousers, and she looked up at him to see him discarding them neatly over a nearby chair where they joined his shirt.

She reached for his cock, wanting to feel him in her hand, slide her fingers around him until he hissed in pleasure but he brushed her hand aside. “No,” he grunted, pulling her hips toward him until her legs dangled off the bed. “Tilt your hips up,” he instructed, angling them the way he liked. Belle obeyed, eager as he was for this. 

When he slid inside her, she cried out, wiggling against his grip. He didn’t relent, withdrawing slightly before thrusting back inside her, his stomach brushing in blissful torture against her clit. Belle stilled, whimpering as he filled her, over and over again. His speed quickened, but he held back, and Belle groaned in frustration. 

“Harder,” she encouraged, reaching for his hips. He twitched against her, warning her to lay back and be still as he began to thrust harder, until he was deep inside her, his pelvis slapping against her own, grinding slightly as the sensations in her body grew to a fever pitch. “Yes, there,” she panted, eyes falling shut as she focused on the feeling of imminent orgasm, the anticipation building in her body until her hand slipped between them on it’s own violation, strumming at her clit until she was gasping and crying out her orgasm with him still inside her.

He didn’t stop, nor slow and her release felt like ages until she collapsed bonelessly back onto the bed, twitching as she tried to catch her breath. Not long after, he slipped out of her, stroked himself hard and fast until he gasped, and hot ribbons of semen coated her stomach and hip. He murmured something, and it disappeared from her skin, as if it had never happened.

Despite the languid satisfaction of her orgasm, Belle tensed at this casual use of magic. “I told you I don’t like when you do that,” Belle reminded him sullenly. He turned and retreated to the chair, starting to dress himself. She pulled the covers over herself, feeling suddenly very alone. . 

“My mistake,” he said in a clipped tone as he fastened his trousers.

She watched him loop his belt through, watched him reach for his button up but he didn’t say anything else. Finally, she rolled over, facing the far wall. It was here, in the moments when he was so far away from her but right in the room with her that she remembered that this was all a mistake.

After a minute, she heard him leave the room, closing the door behind him as he disappeared down the stairs. A moment more, the front door opened and he was gone. Belle clutched the pillows, burying her face in them to stem her tears as they burst free of her control. She clenched her eyes shut against the truth, swore to herself that she was fine until sleep mercifully came and she escaped her own lies for just a little bit longer.


End file.
